


blue tears

by kitcassiachan



Series: seen: a haikyuu collection [19]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Begging, Bottom Adriah Thomas, Canon Compliant, Degradation, Dom/sub Play, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Praise Kink, Rimming, Submission, Top Inunaki Shion, Verbal Humiliation, first time sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29315925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitcassiachan/pseuds/kitcassiachan
Summary: “It’s pathetic,” Shion agrees easily. “But I thought that’s what you signed up to be.”The ‘no’ gets lodged in the back of his throat.  “You like me pathetic?” Thomas asks instead.“You like you pathetic.” Simple.
Relationships: Inunaki Shion/Adriah Thomas
Series: seen: a haikyuu collection [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711519
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37
Collections: Play Ball Zine Collection





	blue tears

**Author's Note:**

> This was my piece for [ Play Ball: A Haikyuu!! NSFW Anthology ](https://twitter.com/hqsmutzine?s=21) where I got to write a rarepair I have been meaning to since MSBY happened. I’m weak for tall, silly bottoms and feisty, small tops so this is that + first time sub Thomas.

**_blue tears_ **

Thomas’s first mistake was laughing at the idea when Shion brought it up off-handedly at a bar, as if he hadn’t dropped a bomb on their six-year friendship. 

“I’m a dom actually,” he’d said and Thomas had cackled in surprise because _what the fuck—he’s so small?!_

This, of course, led to questioning, provocations, mentions of that time four years ago when they were high and Thomas kissed him—and, a week later, this: the thing they’re doing now, blurring all past efforts to be “mature” about “us” and keep it platonic “for the good of the team.” 

Easier to accomplish when Thomas had thought Shion wasn’t his “type.” A lot harder to keep at the forefront of his mind when he’s on all fours, ass-naked.

They’re in the middle of the living room, as close to the kitchen as they are to the door in an apartment Shion shares with two other dudes. If one of them were to come home early, Thomas would be flashing him how much he has prepared for this impromptu, completely random, completely harmless “experiment.” 

“I’ll do it,” he stumbles over his words.

“Oh?” Shion says somewhere behind him. Thomas is too ashamed to look for fear of what he might see and, if Shion is appropriately pissed, what he might _do_ —panic, cum, finish, perish in deep mortification that he’ll never live down. His dick twitches at the thought. 

The progression, breakneck, from teammates to friends to Shion’s cold hands kneading his ass, his thumb brushing against parts Thomas hasn’t bothered to touch for himself. They haven’t even kissed! He hasn’t even been offered water or beer or something to drink. No small talk, no Netflix—certainly no chill. 

“You like being difficult,” Shion observes to himself. The way he speaks, cold and distant, like Thomas is nothing but an object for him to play with. 

Thomas answers anyway, “No—”

“Yes.” 

So he’d giggled at the order. Anyone would have, if asked to _crawl_ their way towards Shion’s bedroom like a dog. That’s what Shion wanted from him. 

What Thomas thought he’d wanted was to try submitting, since he’d been nothing but a successful top in his barely-explored bisexual (at least on paper) life. What he actually wanted was to see Shion feisty and naked. Shion had never given him a chance, so if Thomas is a little wicked, jumping at the first opportunity, that’s something he’s willing to live with.

What he wants _now_... is for his cock to stop dripping all over the parquet floor. Hard and begging to be touched from the very same second Shion had shrugged the jeans off his hips with enough force to risk ripping them. Left them halfway down his thighs, digging into his muscles. Straight to business, the first touch—blazing, kindling, prickling—that, and every other cliché. 

“If you’re not moving, guess we’ll do it here,” he’d threatened. 

Thomas finds he can’t make himself regret it. Shion promises him he will.

He tucks his face in his arm and bites his tongue to hold back whimpers. Cum dribbles on the floor in a puddle below his four, shaking limbs. Only then does Shion touch him. Wraps five fingers around his softening cock and squeezes, droplets beading at the slit and clinging to the tip. 

“Now that you got that out of the way, we can start,” he says, walking around him to drag one of the dining chairs out. Sits on top, watching him.

Thomas should move towards the bedroom, but doing that would mean admitting he has lost. The mess on the floor says, _haven’t you?_ Still, he’s rooted on the spot, too dazed to speak, processing. 

“I won’t be so giving with the next one,” Shion warns him. 

It shouldn’t be a relief that this isn’t over, that he has a chance to redeem himself. But—

“I’m not a chick?” Thomas snorts. “I can’t cum all the time.” And he laughs, before catching himself, wincing. “I’m sorry. I laugh when I’m nervous, okay? I’m fucking nervous—”

“Why?” Shion asks, dissecting him with those stupidly-violet eyes—borderline translucent, pretty, probably dangerous, like a venomous snake. He’s hungry, too. It’s the gaze of a predator, leery yet unassuming, allowing you to approach at your own pace before snapping his fangs around your neck when you least expect it. Somewhere deep in his subconscious, Thomas realizes he’d enjoy that, being hunted and dangled on the precipice. 

“Because.” He sits back on his legs, soft cock against his thigh. “Are you seeing this?” he settles for, when he has no other words.

“It’s pathetic,” Shion agrees easily. “But I thought that’s what you signed up to be.”

The ‘no’ gets lodged in the back of his throat. “You like me pathetic?” Thomas asks instead.

“You like you pathetic.” Simple.

Thomas knows he’s blushing. He knows Shion knows. “But you—do _you_? Lemme guess, you can’t compliment me. That’s part of the thing, having me beg for it? Or having me anxious—?”

“Why do you feel the need to control it?” Shion sounds amused like he’s humoring a small child, like he addresses the younger teammates when they’re being ridiculous—a tone Thomas has never been on the other side of, or he’d have known sooner what it does for him.

“I’m not.” Thomas frowns.

“Scared?”

“I’m not!” He’s standing—

“Down.” Shion stops him. 

Thomas slumps back on his ass and another round of giggles spills out of him at the... insanity of the idea, the whole thing, the instant cumming, the embarrassment, the everything of it all. He covers his face with his hands. “Fuck. I’ve—This—I’m the worst you’ve had, huh—”

“Make yourself useful,” Shion interrupts his meltdown.

When Thomas looks up, Shion has his pretty, pink cock out, sweatpants pulled underneath his balls, fingers skimming up and down his length. It’s not big or impressive, just an averagely-sized, average dick that has Thomas salivating. 

It shouldn’t be so hard to decide. He has wanted this forever and Shion is finally giving it to him. He should take it—but he doesn’t like things offered, and Shion doesn’t like things given. There’s more to it than that. There’s the chase. 

“You’re hard again.”

“Huh?” Thomas looks at his lap, reinvigorated. He _is_ hard, half-hard, chubby but getting there. He’s hard and he can go once more, and probably last longer, and the night is saved—!

“Get yourself off,” Shion orders.

“But—?” 

“The quicker you do it, the quicker I can fill your slutty mouth.” 

Bribery. And he said ‘slutty’, so Thomas has no choice but to touch himself, skin sensitive but bearable. He’s always been a bit of a masochist. The best part of jacking off is the moment right after he orgasms, when he’s lit like a match and every stroke sends him reeling. He keeps touching until he’s sobbing in pain, body twisting, fighting to cope. 

“Are your roommates going to return?” he asks to fill the silence with something other than his breath coming out harsh and fast, and the wet sounds of his hand working.

“You want them to?” Shion cocks his his head sideways. “Aren’t you a little whore deep down?” he decides without Thomas having to answer. “You want everyone to know, so they can use you, too?”

Thomas shakes his head, doesn’t have to look down to know he’s now fully erect, can tell through feeling the weight of his dick against his sweaty palm, the way his hips want to jump up for more. 

Shion’s fingers are long and nimble, settled at the base of his own cock. Thomas has seen them set, has had them close to his lips, once, pushing him away. Wispy, white hair dusts Shion’s pale stomach—flat, tight, tensing imperceptibly. Thomas tracks every sign of pleasure—proof he’s not the only one wanting this. 

“Are you ever gonna touch me?” Thomas rolls his eyes, smiling. 

“No,” Shion says, and means it. “Hurry up or I’ll get bored.” His fingers slide up his dick to swipe at the glistening tip, spreading slick over the dark pink head. Thomas sucks his bottom lip in his mouth and strokes himself harder, thinking of how it would taste to lick the slick off him. 

_Use_ —was the verb Shion chose; Thomas wants to be used, wants to be the thing Shion fucks into, empties in. 

“I can’t,” he whines. “I don’t have something to—”

“Use your imagination.” Shion knows. 

How many nights has Thomas touched himself to images of Shion like this, hot, bare, bored, bitchy, mean, as mean as he is on the court when Thomas misses a receive or slacks midway through a game—more times than he’ll admit. The rejection, gasoline over the fire deep in his belly because he has never been told no—he’s so fucking hot!!—and Shion did, so easily, despite looking like he wanted to kiss back, and it curls his toes every time Thomas thinks about it. 

He’s close now—to getting it, to Shion letting him, wanting him back—to finishing. Again. 

Shion’s on his phone, has seemingly lost interest in his progress, how fucking big Thomas knows his dick is, filled out. Fuck it, doesn’t matter, he’s too far gone to stop. He stares at Shion’s flexed forearm, traces the bulging veins, his thick thighs, his neck, his eyes, lit up by the screen, bored, bored, bored—

“I’m gonna cum,” he grits through his teeth.

In case Shion wants to stop him, or edge him, or look at him or tell him he’s going to be the one to finish him. “I’m—I’m close, I’m gonna cum.” But Shion doesn’t bother to look up and Thomas can’t keep his eyes off him even as they threaten to close with the intensity of his second orgasm, wracking through his cramping limbs, fingers hurting as he pushes himself off the cliff with no parachute. 

“I’m coming, daddy.” 

Shion doesn’t praise him for getting it right, knowing exactly what he was supposed to say without even being told to. He’s unimpressed, as he places the phone aside and spreads his knees, beckoning Thomas closer. 

He shakes the leftover spill off his palm. There’s cum on his thighs and shirt. Thomas crawls between his legs, sits back despite all the difficulties and handicaps of having all his clothes on, and Shion still doesn’t praise him, which is supposed to be part of the deal if he does things right.

“Fine, show me,” Thomas huffs, pouting. “Tell me what to do.” 

Shion smirks. “I thought you knew everything—”

“I don’t. So tell me.” 

Shion raises an eyebrow, places a hand on top of Thomas’s head and pushes him down towards his dick, soft, small enough for Thomas to fit all of him inside his mouth and feel him grow slowly against his tongue and cheeks. 

His tired dick would have loved this, but Shion ruined it, took that from him. 

“You like feeling small, don’t you?” Shion talks above him, fingers rough with his hair. 

Thomas isn’t sure he’ll be allowed back if he pulls off his cock to answer, so he makes a moaning noise instead, mouth straining to keep as much of it inside as he can, even as it swells too big. 

Shion laughs. “Yeah? Bet no one’s ever treated you how you really deserve to be treated,” he says darkly. In any other tone, that would be a good thing. With Shion’s fucky, smug drawl, it’s a threat. “Bet you get praised for everything.”

Thomas is nodding without noticing. He does; sex is easy. He’s good at it, has been since he was fifteen and lost his virginity to a much older woman, fucked so much and so well and no one’s had any complaints. If he wants sex, he gets it. 

Shion drags him up by his hair, his dick slipping out. “You have to move up and down, you know?” he mocks. 

And, because he sounds in charge—a weakness Thomas indulges in rarely enough to be starving when the opportunity presents himself—he can’t help the way his lips mold around the words. “Fuck my mouth.”

“Please.” Shion smirks, hand landing on Thomas’s cheek, his thumb dipping into his mouth to pull his lips open. “Say please.”

“Please,” Thomas mumbles around the intrusion, forcing his tongue in his other cheek in case it accidentally brushes against Shion’s finger and Shion reads it as insolence. Thomas wants to be sweet and good and fuckable. Pliant. 

He’s making a fool of himself, and the thought has him sweating, the heat rushing down his body to settle firmly in his crotch, which in itself is embarrassing—that this is all it takes to keep him going and going, like an unbred whore.

“The full sentence, Tommy,” Shion taunts him, mildly annoyed or pretending to be, because he obviously knows all about his stupid tendencies to cum when he’s told no.

“Fuck my mouth, please,” Thomas says. “Please, fuck my mouth,” for good measure, in case the order matters. Shion waits like Thomas has yet to finish.

_Oh._

Thomas’s cheeks grow hot, mouth sloppy since he can’t swallow. Shion won’t let him lower his eyes—his fingers underneath his chin, lifting it. Up close, looking down on him, he’s the strangest, most unreal person Thomas has met. 

“...Please, fuck my mouth, daddy.” 

Thomas burns.

Shion stands abruptly, chair falling back with a clatter. Their height difference proves beneficial: Thomas, a perfectly-placed hole for Shion to fuck into. Shion pushes the hair off his forehead, grabs a chunk as purchase. Thomas looks up with what he knows is his best feature—his big, black eyes. Shion falters, shows him a glimpse of how bad he wants him. 

“Don’t get hard,” he snaps back swiftly, all trace of desire wiped clean. 

Thomas doesn’t think he can, but the warning settles on his brain like a blanket of promised punishment. If he’s bad, he can get spanked; if he’s really bad, he can be told off; if he’s really, really bad, Shion will surprise him. 

The first thrust hits the back of his throat and he gags immediately, not expecting it. Eyes glassy, stinging. Shion pulls back, lets him recover. It’s embarrassing. When he’s done coughing up a lung, he looks up, expecting delight, the kind of told-you-so that gets his mouth dry, but Shion seems concerned, like he’s doubting it. Fuck, he’s so embarrassing.

“You’ve never,” Shion guesses. 

He has never. 

“No man has done this to you,” Shion pushes. “You’ve never had cock.”

So? So what? Nothing has ever been right, but this is right. If he had to lie to get here, that’s right too—the end justifies the means. Shion would never give him his worst if he knew Thomas was actually a stupid, cowardly virgin in anything that’s not women falling on his feet and letting him do everything. 

He opens his mouth and points out his tongue, an overt invitation to the unspoken debate going on between them. Shion wants to break him—he only needs permission. _Wreck me,_ Thomas glares.

“In that case,” Shion fakes a disapproving sigh, “I’ll have to do everything myself.”

Thomas couldn’t try to look less eager even if he wanted to. 

Shion guides the tip of his cock against his lips, pushes gently to part them and fuck in and out of his mouth with shallow thrusts that barely reach the back of his tongue, teasing movements, easing him into accepting the way his mouth spreads to accommodate, his tongue pressing up against the hard length of his cock. He tastes clean, slightly salty. 

Thomas wants more, leans forward to push him deeper, all the way. And Shion slams into him in response, choking his whimper, as his throat clenches around the sudden pressure. 

“You’re either gonna play innocent...” He pulls back to slap back in—one smooth, sloppy movement after another. “Or you’re gonna be a greedy whore.” He puppets Thomas’s head to meet him halfway, hips bucking into his face in earnest. “You can’t do both, baby.”

 _I’ll do what I want!_ Thomas thinks to whine for the reaction, but Shion gives him no opportunity—relentlessly fucking into his mouth with barely enough time in between thrusts for Thomas to breathe, let alone yap back. 

He focuses on relaxing his throat without being told to, figuring it all out on his own. It’s the only way to get more, have Shion press harder, deeper, closer, Thomas’s nose right against his groin, sniffing the musk and sweat. 

He watches Shion fuck through blurred eyes and wants every hole in him plugged, wants to see Shion fucking like this when it’s elsewhere too, everywhere—his cock stirs at the thought. 

“You love this, don’t you?” Shion asks, wiping the tears apparently rolling down his face. Thomas can swallow him whole, to the hilt, all the fucking way even when he’s this hard, he can take all of him. He’s so good, isn’t he?

“You’d make such a good cocksleeve,” Shion agrees. Thomas focuses on the word so hard he could go cross-eyed and brain-dead repeating it—good, good, good, good, good, he’s good. He could be better—the best—if told how. 

His jaw aches, pried open, but when Shion makes to pull him off, Thomas fights to stay flush against his lovely belly, mouth full of daddy’s cock. 

Shion sighs above him. His hand releases his hair and comes up from underneath, cupping Thomas’s swollen throat lightly, almost lovingly, but the act itself, at such a vulnerable spot, has Thomas shaking. He feels the drool pool out of him in the strangled moans he makes.

In his mouth, Shion’s dick jerks noticeably, growing bigger, slathering the inside of his mouth with clear signs he’s enjoying it, the precum constant. Thomas wonders what it’d be like to sit like this until Shion shoots ropes into him, fills him up. If Shion could, with nothing but the way Thomas’s lips, cheeks and throat twitch and clench around him—if this is enough, to have Shion breed his mouth.

“Why do you insist on fighting, if you want it so badly?” Shion asks, detaching his mouth but not taking everything away. Thomas chases after his cock before he even thinks to _breathe_ , chest burning in realization that he has had so little oxygen, he feels dizzy. Shion lets him suckle on the head and lick around the tip, as he inhales harshly.

“Scared?” he repeats his previous question. 

If Thomas is scared, it’s of this ending before he can show Shion it doesn’t have to. If acting up prolongs it, if it’s a one-time encounter, if being difficult means Shion will spend more time taming him, if it’ll become a pride thing for Shion to teach Thomas manners again and again—if that’s what it takes, then he’ll deny himself the pleasure of being supple and worthless. 

The issue is that Shion can read him. Moreso than speed—and the ability to not give a fuck how you throw your body against the floor—what makes a libero good is noticing the slightest shifts in people’s moods, when they’re vexed enough to keep trying the same move in hopes that this time they’ll smash through your arms, and getting them there through silent taunts and smirks.

Shion is one of the best, off the court and on. And he’s no stranger to Thomas and his moods, off the court and on, which makes this unfair—as unfair as the time Thomas chased his lips, knowing Shion was thinking the same thing, and Shion pulled away, knowing it would drive Thomas crazy to be denied. Told him no as he stared at Thomas’s lips hungrily, walked him out with his hot hand low on Thomas’s back.

“I’m hard again.” Thomas stares up defiantly. 

Shion’s eyes drop to his crotch, his upper lip curling in dissatisfaction at the sight. Thomas is giddy watching him. 

“I can do both,” he offers innocently.

Shion pushes his forehead back so he stumbles and drops on his ass, squirming to free his legs from under him. Thankfully, Shion is as fed up with the pants situation as Thomas has been since he first set foot in the apartment. He yanks the jeans off Thomas’s legs, underwear tagging along for the ride. In hindsight, tight clothing—as sexy as the idea had seemed, when Thomas was frolicking in front of his mirror at home—is a pain in practicality. Next time, he’ll show up in a bathrobe. 

“Aw, don’t look so happy. You make it too easy,” Shion quips, pushing his legs back, so Thomas is bent in half, knees against his chest. 

Thomas smiles harder. “Easy... how?” he breathes. 

“Easy to keep disappointing you... keep breaking your heart,” Shion replies. 

His breath is hot against the most sensitive parts of Thomas’s body—the base of his cock, his balls, moving downwards, on his fluttering asshole. Thomas tenses and thinks Shion might be losing it, if he thinks this will be any kind of letdown.

The first lap of Shion’s tongue against his hole is searing, pleasure blitzing its the way up his spine to shroud his brain. He exhales through his nose, as the licks keep coming. Raises his head to chance a look, but Shion has a hand splayed on top of his thighs, pushing them against his torso and keeping himself hidden behind his knees. 

The next time he dips down, Thomas doesn’t expect it—so close, so hot, so wet—he moans. Shion circles the rim, pokes the tip of his tongue inside, barely a stretch but just enough solid pressure to let Thomas sample how he might feel, stretched to where it hurts, full to where he can sense every twitch of Shion’s pretty cock deep in his belly.

His cock bobs against his stomach, roused and angry at that fact. Thomas wonders if Shion will have him touch himself again, if he’ll rub himself raw by the end of the night. Can’t remember the last time he has been this horny in such a short period of time; didn’t think it possible to have _enough_ and want _more_ —that he could have _everything_ he thought possible, and be shown there are things beyond what he could imagine. Every part of him expanding to accommodate.

“Flip over,” Shion orders. 

Thomas scurries to obey like a dog running on wet tiles, as clumsy as it is pathetic. He’s back on all fours, back with Shion’s fingers teasing his entrance, back to dropping his head between his arms to tolerate how bad he wants to become mush on the floor. 

In this position, Shion can get his mouth deeper, sucking on his rim. Best of all, Thomas has a say. He can push his body back, control the pace, writhe and roll his hips to rub himself on Shion’s tongue, guide where it falls.

“More,” he grimaces when Shion pulls away, Thomas’s hips meeting nothing but cold air, made chillier by how wet every part of him is. 

Shion is ravenous, licking stripes up and down his shivery skin. His hands grab either side of his ass, spreading him open for display. 

Thomas hears him spit before he feels it land on his twitchy hole and slide down his balls to drip on the floor. 

“I’m not doing this for you,” Shion informs him.

“Mhm,” is the only sound Thomas can manage in response, muffling his mouth with his hands for what’s to come, for how Shion will fuck him. Surely. He’s soaking him up for the first push. 

Something else is touching him. Something hot and smooth and _hard_. Shion pushes his cock in between his cheeks, squeezing his ass around himself, fingers digging hard enough to bruise. He slides himself up and down, picking up the pace so every thrust has Thomas bracing on his elbows to stay up.

“You can,” Thomas murmurs, in what he hopes sounds seductive. Shion brushes against his hole. Stops so the head of his cock presses into it, a sting, then sharp pain, then nothing. Thomas slaps his dick against him. 

“Your hole’s practically _begging_ for it,” he groans. 

“Yeah, yeah, you can,” Thomas babbles semi-coherently, high on the idea. Remembers how he’s supposed to be saying things and quickly adjusts. “Please, fuck me, daddy,” he cries out.

“No,” Shion replies. 

Thomas’s whine is cut short by Shion’s palm smacking against the side of his ass, the sting hot, fast, momentary—what’s left behind, a delicious fuzziness that has him hyper-aware of every part of him that’s untouched, that could be touched, when it might be touched next, stomach roiling in anticipation.

“Fuck me,” he sobs louder, legs shaking. 

“I said no,” Shion says, but won’t slap him for asking—already onto that tactic, a step ahead with everything Thomas can come up with. “Now stay still like the cock-toy that you are.”

This can’t be enough. It’s not enough for him and it can’t be enough for Shion. It can’t be all he wants. It can’t be tight enough or good enough for his cock—Thomas can be good enough if Shion lets him. This is frustrating, stupid, useless, terrible, terrible and Thomas will never have anything close to this perfect again. 

“Next time?” he whimpers hopefully before he can stop his mouth. “Please, next time?” 

The only reply he gets is a particularly rough thrust forward that has their bodies slapping together obscenely. Thomas fumbles, forgetting where he is, drops to lay down, have Shion fuck him into the bed, only for his cock to graze the ice-cold floor. He yelps and flinches up, meeting Shion’s next plunge halfway, almost splitting himself in half.

Shion laughs breathily and rocks above him in sharp, jerky thrusts. Thomas can feel every inch of skin they’re touching, how the tip of Shion’s cock catches on his hole for a wishful moment.

If Thomas lets himself fall, he can at least rub against something. He needs to be touched bad enough to consider it. Even if it’ll hurt, even if it’s filthy. Shion won’t give it to him—about that much, Thomas is sure, he won’t—and Thomas will _die_ if he doesn’t cum one last time. 

His fingers curl into fists, nails digging in his palms. He could touch himself. He could move his hand in between his legs and jack himself off in time to Shion’s thrusts. 

He could, but he won’t. 

Floor it is. Floor, like the dog that he is. The temperature difference between his chest and the floor is enough to momentarily shock his brain blank. Shion keeps his bottom half off of it, hand digging into Thomas’s hip as he chases his finish.

“You’ll look so good around my cock,” he snarls, movements stuttering to a stop.

The cum lands hot on his back. Thomas can feel every single drop, every delayed droplet. His whole body trembles, coiled like a spring wound so tight it’s seconds from bursting. He has no choice but to let go—but he holds it together, squeezing his eyes shut until he sees stars and hears static and fears breathing.

Shion spreads his legs, nudging his knees apart. His voice is husky when he comments, “Ah, good boy,” like for the first time since this started, he’s proud. 

The praise is unbearable; his toes curl, his balls hurt, his dick pulses. 

“You want me to touch you?” Shion purrs, fingers tracing the base of Thomas’s spine. 

Thomas doesn’t dare nod or shake his head. Even if he could speak, he wouldn’t—there’s nothing to say, nothing to do, nothing, delicious, carefree nothing. It’s not about what he wants, but what he’s given. He’ll take what he’s given. 

“Hmm,” Shion hums, hand skimming sideways to his hip, past his hipbone to wrap around his throbbing cock. Thomas locks the scream in his throat, swallows anything it leaves behind, bites his cheek hard enough to taste blood. “You’ve learned,” Shion comments, impressed. 

Thomas breaks, hips bucking forward to rut into his hand. The pleasure so _gutting_ that once he has started, he can’t stop from fucking into Shion’s hand desperately.

And Shion _lets_ him, tightening his fist until Thomas is cumming violently, hips locking, every muscle in his body convulsing. 

Shion milks out what’s left of his soul.

Thomas falls on his own cum. Shion half on top of him, weighing close to nothing—nothing but a warm, grounding presence. He’s unsure of what aches more, regaining his breath or regaining the lucid part of his brain that has to make sense of what just happened.

They didn’t fuck, so maybe it’s okay; maybe Shion has done this with all of their teammates, maybe this is some sort of man-bonding, some sort of team... unity... thing, for them all to be in love with Shion and trust him with their life—a libero thing, a normal, libero thing that liberos do with all their teammates, like trust falls but dick-first. 

It’s not. It’s a them thing. Them and the roommates. He’s suddenly jerking awake. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” One for each puddle of cum. “We need to clean up. Your roommates—”

“They’re away for the weekend,” Shion tells him, nonplussed about the fact that they’re lying on the floor, half-naked, drenched in sweat and spit and semen and sex. 

“What?” Thomas gawks. 

Shion throws him a sexy smile. “You think I’d actually risk them seeing you like this?” His fingers skim Thomas’s back. “Thought I made it clear how possessive of a bastard I am.”

“You lied?” Thomas’s voice goes up several pitches in indignation.

“No. _You_ assumed and _I_ indulged you.” Shion shrugs. “And you—” His thumb swipes Thomas’s ravaged bottom lip, shows him the bright red blood. “Liked it. Next time, huh?”

“Stop,” Thomas covers his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I thought we weren’t gonna talk about that.”

Shion rolls over on his side to look at him, head on his palm, almost peaceful and relatively non-evil. “ _Next time_ , you won’t cum at all,” he announces. “Still up for it?”

Thomas is up, he’s so up. Shion blinks at him, exasperated. “If we ever _get_ to the next time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! It was an honor to mod and write for Play Ball and very humbling to be able to raise over $5000 for an amazing charity. Please drop a comment/kudos below if you enjoyed it and make sure to check all the other amazing stories and art. 
> 
> I would also like to thank the talented [Nice Day, Bucky](https://twitter.com/nicedaybucky?s=21) who collaborated with me to illustrate this story. 
> 
> My [twitter](https://twitter.com/kitcassia?s=21) if you’d like to talk to me!


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